


Screw Technology

by Hannigrammatic



Series: Screw it! [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, M/M, Masturbation, Phone Sex, Possessive Behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 19:28:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4889179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannigrammatic/pseuds/Hannigrammatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal calls Will from work. Things get steamy. ♥</p>
            </blockquote>





	Screw Technology

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little ditty I typed up tonight. Trying to force my way through a nasty case of writers block. Lots of dialogue, tons of self-gratifying things. I've been wanting to write this the moment I got sucked into this ship

“What are you wearing?”

“Wow, Doctor. I expected something a bit less cliche, not going to lie.”

Silence, and then finally a slightly annoyed hiss.

“Will.”

He only has to say one word.

“Alright, I’m sorry. Hard to contain the sass when your boyfriend sets himself up so easily.”

It’s said in affectionate jest.

“Are you going to make me ask again?”

A pause as they are both silent. Will shifts in his bed, cups the bulge between his legs, nearly purrs at the pleasant warmth that unfurls in his gut at the tone Hannibal speaks with -it’s promising of things that make the FBI profiler squirm happily.

“Just my boxers,” Will answers at last.

“Remove them immediately.”

Naked skin meets cool air. Will grits his teeth momentarily as he palms himself again, not stroking yet. Even just touching himself is disobeying, and he’s both happy and disappointed that his boyfriend is not here currently.

“Okay. When are you coming home?”

“Tomorrow, late night. You will be up, though.”

Phrases that should be questions worded as a command instead. Will squirms again, smiling at the ceiling. The huge, plush bed enveloping him makes him almost moan as he imagines Hannibal coming home to Will NOT up, nor awake, curled up in the blankets and trying not to smirk as he feigns sleep. It’s enough to make Will hard, even were he not already.

“What are you wearing?” Will asks quietly.

“Much more than you, unfortunately. Stop touching yourself.”

He fails at containing the laugh, and obeys. He’s not sure how Hannibal knows, but the man always seems to. It does nothing to change the fact that Will enjoys pushing the boundaries of their relationship.

“Do you have your toy handy, Will?” asked with no change in his voice, still steady, deadly sexy, and reeking of command.

“Yes. Am I allowed to use lube this time?”

Will knows as soon as he asks that he shouldn’t have, but he is indeed feeling sassy tonight. It’s been a long time since he’s misbehaved, after all.

“No. Insert it.”

Will Graham had never been a man of much dignity. Mostly he sort of stumbled about and things happened in his life. But even an untamed pup like himself can acknowledge when to stop pawing at buttons. What a shame. He’d liked to have teased his boyfriend more, but he knows if he behaves badly, he will be treated less sweetly. That is how their arrangement works, and he loves it. 

He presses the purple buttplug against his opening gently, after splaying himself and making sure Hannibal hears every shift in the soft blankets. He doesn't push it the rest of the way in until he has adjusted his position, arching his back and rolling his hips as his cock becomes damp with precome. The lack of lube makes it uncomfortable, but it is a smaller toy, and he’s done this enough times.

“You may touch yourself. Not your cock, however. Turn on your cam.”

A fumble in the dark, but Will gets the lamp turned on at the bedside. He shakes his unruly hair out of its messy tail and then turns on the camera of his smart phone. Hannibal doesn't turn his on, but Will doesn't expect him to. He keeps his phone focused on his face as he puts his boyfriend on speaker.

“You need a haircut. I’ll schedule it for next week,” Hannibal murmurs, and his voice is finally pitched just a bit higher, less contained as he drinks in the sight of his lover looking into the camera coyly.

“I thought you liked grabbing it,” Will says around a smirk he cannot help. “Am I showing you my toy, by the way?”

“No. Keep the camera on your face. Touch your nipples.”

Will obeys immediately, stroking the left, then the right, pinching them into hard points. He bites his lip and doesn’t look away from the camera. He wants to, blushing, shyly turn his face into the pillow, but he doesn’t.

“And I enjoy grabbing it quite a lot. I enjoy holding your head down by it and fucking you until you fall apart. But there is too much, and you are beginning to remind me of one of your dogs,” Hannibal’s smirk is heard through his tone.

“I’d be offended if my dogs weren’t all equally handsome,” Will bites out on a breath as he pinches one of his nipples harder and pushes into the mattress; he still does not look away from the camera. 

“Hmm. I thought we had dealt with the sass, darling.”

Delicious almost-fear fills Will’s gut. He loves the different tones Hannibal is capable of, even if his voice does not change volume. His accent and rough timbre molds words as perfectly as the man himself molds everything to his liking. Will can't help the smirk adorning his own lips just then, although it falls away when his boyfriend finally growls.

“Touch your cock. Only the head. Keep the camera on your face.”

Calloused hands squeeze the head of his cock, straining against his soft belly. Will bites his lip again and runs the tip of his thumb through the precome decorating the blushing tip. He fights the moan that wants to curl up into his throat, simultaneously not wanting to give Hannibal the satisfaction, and also knowing he is not allowed to enjoy this too much. Not yet.

“I’m imagining you here, Will,” Hannibal says. “Crouched beneath the desk, face between my thighs. No one knows I’ve snuck you in.”

“Am I sucking you?” Will asks.

“No. My pants are not open. You’re looking up at me with your eyes wide and your mouth open. You’re ready to suck me. But I haven’t given you permission.”

Will squeezes himself harder and arches into the touch slightly. He wants to be there with his boyfriend, he wants to be crouched under his desk with his face buried against the man’s crotch, nosing the fabric of his expensive pants and inhaling his scent.

“You may stroke yourself properly now. Slowly, though. Don’t look away.”

“Are you touching yourself?”

“No. I’m at work. It would be unfortunate if someone walked in on this, don’t you think?”

“Yeah. I’d have to kill them for seeing you, too. I’m way too comfy to do that right now.”

Hannibal laughs once, pleased. Will smirks at the camera again as he strokes himself in earnest now. He squirms around on the bed, unable to do anything with the toy plugging him up. He wants to fuck himself with it, or the bigger one, if only his boyfriend would let him. 

“Possessive. Will, you know I adore when you get like that. I’m hard now. You may stroke yourself more, now. I’m afraid I have to let you go soon, but I want to see you come first.”

“I wish I could suck you right now. I wish this was your cock I was touching,” Will stammers.

He is stroking himself fast, fucking his hand at a harder pace. He bites his lip again and wants to break the skin. He doesn’t take his eyes off of the camera though, no matter how much he wants to. He becomes incredibly shy in these moments. God knows they’ve done this countless times before, but it is never an old thing when he can imagine Hannibal at his desk, unable to take part or even palm his crotch. Unable and unwilling, as his dignity would not allow such an act, especially with the messy result potentially staining pants that are more expensive than most people’s salary.

“I wish the same. Are you enjoying yourself presently?”

“Yeah. Yes. A lot.”

“Good. Now stop.”

Will whines loudly before he can help it. But he obeys, after a few more rebellious strokes. He lets his hand bury itself in the blankets as he looks at the camera plaintively.

“Mmm. I do love that expression. Do you know why I told you to stop?”

“I’ve been bad,” Will says, and he looks away very briefly this time, blushing hard - he looks back very quickly, however.

“Yes. And sassy. What do you have to say for yourself?” Hannibal asks in a stern tone.

“I’m sorry. Very sorry.”

“Are you really?”

“No.”

Hannibal laughs again, louder this time. Will can hear the sound of a chair scraping against floor. He bites his lip again and pulls his features into a pouting expression, but his guts are tangled pleasantly as his body clenches around the purple toy still inside him. 

“You may resume. You have two minutes to come, Will. If you haven’t by then, then you will wait until tomorrow.”

Will Graham’s smirk falls away entirely. His body tenses as he strokes himself again, faster. It is exciting, knowing he has a time limit. It's exciting and frustrating all at once because he can only use one hand, and he knows if he drops the phone he'll be in even more trouble. He wants to fuck himself properly on the toy, the bigger one that isn’t a plug. He wants to be messy with lube and on his side and fucking himself into orgasm; he wants Hannibal to be there holding him down and biting his neck and mounting him roughly. He strokes harder, and is unable to track the time.

“You have forty seconds.”

Faster, tighter, hips arching into the air, hand sweating around his grip on the phone. He closes his eyes, unable to help it, and his body sings with pleasure. The nervous energy at his time depleting only serves to fuel his arousal.

“Twenty-four. Look at me, William.”

He opens his eyes, panting, looks into the camera as his hand pulls and strokes desperately at his cock.The blankets around him embrace his sensitive skin almost painfully softly. His orgasm flutters within reach, his anxiety at the time counting down increasing with his strokes. He grips himself hard and fast and whines loudly at the camera, picturing in his mind Hannibal, sitting at the desk, straight-backed in his chair, watching him fall apart at the seams. He’d be smirking. Hard, but smirking.

“Five.”

Harder squeezes, faster pulls.

“Four. Imagine I am there right now, tongue fucking into your hole. You enjoy that a lot.”

Will grits his teeth hard and cries out as he remembers last week, when Hannibal had held him down and ate him out for hours, let him come again and again, until everything was so sensitive it hurt, and even then he did not stop. Hannibal is strong and can hold Will at his mercy for as long as he desires.

“Three.”

He imagines Hannibal’s hand gripping his hair and fucking his face, cock pulled out of his expensive pants, dressed completely otherwise. They’re somewhere semi-public. They have to be quick. He has to-

“Two.”

Will shouts as he spills, ropes of come painting his belly and chest, a droplet landing on his chin against the stubble. His body clenches tightly and he fights the urge to drop the phone and squirm around in the soft bedding as he rides out his orgasm. His vision frays at the edges as the pleasure grips his entire body for several moments. Finally, he lets out a breath and sinks into the mattress. He pants as he looks into the camera heavy-lidded.

“Beautiful. I will see you tomorrow, my love. I want that toy to be in you when I come home.”

And the call ends. Will drops the thing immediately and into the blankets with a sigh. He knows he should clean up and spare the expensive bedding, but he also knows the drying come-stains will irritate Hannibal the next evening. Perhaps irritate him enough to warrant punishment. Smiling, Will lets himself drift. His body quivers happily, thighs clenching around the toy still buried within him.

Will Graham has never been a man of much dignity. But Hannibal seems to enjoy that quite a bit.

END.


End file.
